


Locked In

by Writing-Classic-Rock (writingfanfic)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: F/M, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14140002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Classic-Rock
Summary: For the prompt: 'May i request A Beatles (George Harrison) x reader where they both have a huge crush on each other but they’re both too oblivious and shy to confess their feelings so the other beatle boys have to come in and help them'Can do!





	Locked In

****“Yer gonna have to tell him sometimes, y’know.”

You look at Paul, and very slowly stick your tongue out, making sure he sees the toast stuck to it in great detail, and he grimaces, pushing you away.

“‘Ey, yer a gross bird, you are.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and he shakes his head.

“But serious. Like, Harrison’s not just gonna ask yeh out. He’s a shy little baby.” Paul flutters his lashes, and you elbow him. “An’ I know yeh like him.”

“And he doesn’t like me, Paulie, so…” You roll your eyes. “I’m going to go and put my makeup on-”

“Ugh! It’s hideous,” John gasped, walking in, and puts his hands up. “Christ, it’s a bloody lake monster.” You show him your tongue, and he shakes his head. “No thanks, love, but it’s a nice offer. What’re yeh doin’ in here, like?”

“Eating breakfast, Johnny,” you say, indicating the breakfast in front of you, and he rolls his eyes.

“She’s a snarky bitch, isn’t she,” he says to Paul, who tries to hush him. “What I mean is - yeh never eat in  _here_. So… was Harry in here?”

“‘course he was,” Paul grins, and you kick him. “She was all cow-eyed over him, like, you should’ve seen ‘er…” John leans in, grinning, and you kick his shin; he curses, and Paul grins. “Yer a scary one…”

* * *

“‘Ey, (Y/N), we need yeh help liftin’ stuff.”

You look up, face completely deadpan, and Paul tilts his head.

“‘Ey, yeh must’ve put yer shirt on funny, yeh’ve got a face like a smacked arse,” he cracks, and you flip him off. “Come on, I need yer big strong arms…”

“Sod off,” you say, pleasantly, and push yourself up, following him down to the practise room. You step inside, and see George at one end of the table; your face goes bright red, and you turn around to the door shutting.

“…ey?” George says, and you turn to him. “Oh… hey, (Y/N).” He looks down at his shoes. “Uh… did yeh come to give us a hand, like?”

“…I…” You hear the clunk of the lock, and turn to see Paul and John pressed up against the window in the door, grinning. “Hey…!”

“No way. Yer gonna work it out, yeh great nancies,” John grins, before snorting to steam up the glass and drawing, predictably, a penis in it. “Bye-bye, lovebirds…” Paul waves as well, and you turn back to George, face bright red.

“What’s he talking about?” you stammer, convincing nobody, not even yourself, and George looks at you.

“I’ve got… no idea, like,” he says, in the exact same voice as you, and you swallow sharply, staring at him. “Lovebirds… ey-”

“ _Oh, c’mon_ ,” you hear Paul sigh outside the door.

“ _‘Ey, what’s goin’ on here, like?_ ” comes Ringo’s inquisitive voice, and you sigh.

“Ringo, they’ve locked us in here…!”

“ _Oh great,_ ” comes the drummer’s enthusiastic voice. “ _Are yeh just gonna admit yeh fancy each other?_ ”

“ _Ringo, yeh’ve ruined it_!” comes John’s hissed voice, and you look at George, cheeks flushed. “ _They were s’posed teh come to it themselves, like!_ ”

“…is that true, ‘ey?” George asks, and you put your hand up.

“Okay, we are not having this conversation in a locked practise room-”

“ _-yes yeh are-_ ”

“ _No, we fucking are not,_  Johnny!” you say sharply, and John appears in the door-window, waving the keys and grinning. “You motherfu-”

“Ignore them, right?” George says sharply, and reaches out and grabs your hand. “Are you into me? Like, is Johnny tellin’ the truth?” You sigh, and nod, feeling your cheeks blush. “…that’s  _gear_ , that is.” He beams, eyes sparkling, and you stare at him. “For real?”

“For real.” You swallow. “You like me?”

“Yeh!” he grins, and looks at the door. “Reckon we can climb out the window, like? We can go somewhere ‘n’ discuss this a bit more.” You nod, and as you make your way over to the window, you hear the others outside.

“ _They aren’t…_ ”

“ _Fuck, they’re gonna…_ ”

As George boosts you up to the windows, you hear the keys in the lock, and grin.

“ _I can’t open it!_ ”


End file.
